


Rewrite the Stars

by thechaoscryptid



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (Shiro's), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Intersex Keith (Voltron), Introspection, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miscommunication, Mix of AFAB/AMAB Language, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22185289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechaoscryptid/pseuds/thechaoscryptid
Summary: "Everything's always so transitive with us and the paladins and the universe. Even you, Shiro. You died." He bites his lip, fingers tightening on Shiro's bicep. "Youdied," he says, and it's the barest hint of a whimper as he pulls closer. "That's what I expected. I expected you to be dead and now you're not, and I have to deal with all this shit at once, and I just want to hold you close so you'll never leave me again."Shiro's inhale feels like knives in his lungs before he speaks. "I haven't been there for you for so many things," he says, voice hoarse. "Why do you still want me, Keith? You could have the world.""Because I love you."~Hit with an unexpected first heat as the paladins are leaving for Earth, Keith turns to the person he trusts the most for help.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 102
Collections: Sheith Big Bang 2019





	Rewrite the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Mei](https://twitter.com/belovedsheith) for working with me on this piece!! ❤

_ What if we rewrite the stars? _

_ Say you were made to be mine, _

_ Nothing could keep us apart, _

_ You’d be the one I was meant to find. _

***

Shiro understands falling. Over and over again he’s done so, in every possible way. He understands the adrenaline and aching, the voice deep inside that insists he shouldn’t ever do so again. Falling wounds pride and soul and sometimes body, and falling from a desolate moon only to wake in Keith’s arms wraps everything in a neat package of regret.

It’s not that he regrets waking there, no, quite the contrary--there’s nowhere he’d rather be after being lost in an endless sea of stars for god knows how long. What he regrets is that any of this had to happen in the first place. He’s had a lot of time to reflect, stuck in Black, and one of the thoughts that thrums through him is  _ should’ve been more. _

_ Should’ve been more. _

_ Should’ve been more. _

Every part of him is hypersensitive as he lays there on the dusty ground, shrinking under the gazes of the other paladins. This world is  _ too much.  _ Dirt clogs his nose, the smell of alien soil permeating his lungs and making him choke into Keith’s chest. The air around them  _ burns,  _ but the metal of Keith’s beaten breastplate grounds him as he presses his cheek against it.

He almost wishes he could be back in the lion. It was easier there, with fewer things vying for his attention. Even though it's one of the worst things he’s gone through, he thinks it would be preferable to the way laughter worms its way into his head like a brand, making it throb and his chest constrict.

_ Too much. _

He pastes on a smile and hopes his face isn’t too grim when Keith announces it’s time to go back to Earth. It’s difficult to muster the proper motivation when all he wants to do is be safe, and though Keith is confident it’s the right decision, he cannot guarantee it’ll be safe.

Shiro won’t make him lie for his comfort.

As Keith’s arms tighten around him, he groans quietly. It all hurts, from his head to his feet, and he realizes with a start that that is another reason he should go back. There was no pain in the lion, nothing blanketing his body in the misery he’s experiencing now. It has to be close to every nerve that’s lit up below his skin, he thinks, and huffs a laugh at the thought that maybe he should be glowing.

At least the pain would be beautiful.

He doesn’t know if Keith realizes just how tightly he’s wrapping around Shiro, doesn’t know if he realizes that he’s chanting his name like a prayer as he rocks back and forth. “Shiro, Shiro, Shiro…”

“Keith.” The word rumbles from him, pushes through the layers of dust and dirt and regret that have made their home in his throat as he tries to reach for Keith’s face. He doesn’t look, because he knows seeing the way it’s split open from the plasma burn  _ he  _ put there will be too much for his fragile soul to handle. “Oh, god,  _ Keith--”  _ He tries again and fails, his body giving up and sending pain wracking through him instead.

It’s too much.

_ Too much. _

Shiro wants to cry. He feels it building up inside, the anger, frustration, and upset at everything that he’s been forced to sit and watch over the last year. His eyes burn but remain dry, unable to muster tears as he curses the fact that another seemingly endless cycle of learning to live again seems to be in order.

When he tries for the third time, fingers twitching in their quest to do  _ anything,  _ even curl up under his chin as he rests against Keith, he can no longer hold back the grey. His throat works as he tries to call for him one last time, but it  _ doesn’t,  _ he  _ can’t,  _ and he falls into the cool embrace of unconsciousness before he can tell Keith he missed him.

**

In the grey, it’s easier. He floats in endless waters of peace, unable to think, to breathe, to live. It is at once beautiful and terrible, and he wonders if he’ll ever find his way to some distant shore.

It doesn’t matter.

The grey will take care of him.

There’s no pain here, something he thinks is worth  _ everything  _ even if everything else fades away around him. Stuck here, he’d have one part of the life he’d always dreamed of. Perhaps with time, he could form something with the shifting mists that obscure his mind, mold it into Black or Voltron or…

_ Keith. _

There’s no pain here, but he feels the icy fingers of dread reaching into his chest and plucking at the strings of his heart at the name. He shuts his eyes and succumbs, sifting through feelings and desires until he comes to one conclusion--Keith should be here too. He’s not sure how long it takes to realize--it’s so hard to tell here, after all, the uncaring weight of nothingness does nothing for one’s inner clock--but what’s important is that he  _ knows. _

_ Shiro. _

He shakes his head back and forth, back and forth. Waves ripple out from the motion, their gentle swishing sinking into every part of him to rock him back into oblivion. The breath in his lungs is filled with a poison that stings every part of him as it’s absorbed, pumped through arteries that  _ shouldn’t exist. _

Nothing should exist here.

_ Shiro! _

“Go away,” he wants to say, but his tongue is sandpaper and stuck to the top of his mouth when he tries to open it. Instead, he shuts his eyes to find the same shade of grey as he looks at the back of his eyelids.  _ “It was my time,”  _ he thinks.  _ “Let me go.” _

“I know you’re in there!”

The poison sears outward with every passing second, bright sparks of red lighting up the eternal mist as Shiro struggles against it. He doesn’t want to go--he wants to stay here where nothing’s good and nothing’s bad and everything’s  _ even.  _

After everything that’s happened, all he craves is steadiness.

“You can’t die on me, Shiro, not after everything we’ve been through!”

There’s a thudding sound, and it cracks like thunder through ears that shouldn’t be able to hear. More red begins to appear, pouring through holes punctured in the fog by the sound of a voice he recognizes as Keith’s. Red and yellow and blue he recognizes as the light of a crystal bleed into his consciousness until he’s gasping, thrown back into the  _ too much,  _ and sitting up quick enough to nearly hit his head on the force field in front of him.

He wakes to Keith’s arms again.

Again, like he’s unable to stop.

Again, like he’s addicted.

Again, like it’s a grand cosmic joke that wants to remind him of the man he should not have.

“You’re alive,” Keith says, voice tremulous. “You’re alive.

“Y--” Shiro’s eyes shut as he stops, tries again. “You...you saved me.”

Keith pulls back, eyes filled with tears, and Shiro realizes he’s surrounded by something that smells sweeter than anything he’s ever known. “We saved each other,” he says. “Remember? As many times as it takes.” 

_ Remember,  _ he says, as though Shiro can do anything but. He buries his face in the warmth of Keith’s neck, breathing deep and focusing on the way Keith’s body is warm and solid and  _ real  _ underneath him. He’s  _ here.  _ He’s real, and he’s holding Shiro like he’ll never let him go again.

The loss Shiro experiences when Krolia pulls Keith away so Allura can run tests is so pure, so agonizing, that he thinks he might pass again from the way it rips through his chest. There’s no icy doubt this time, those fingers replaced by red-hot sears that bloom out as though his soul is reaching for Keith’s. “Keith,” he croaks, but Keith is already out of earshot and Allura’s ordering him to sit up so she can get a better look at what’s going on with his body. 

There was a stupid, childish part of Shiro that hoped he’d never be subjected to clinical poking and prodding again.

“How long?” he asks, and she cocks her head in confusion. “How long was I gone?”

“Oh, only a few days this time,” she says. Her hands skim over his arm, his stomach, his legs as she measures and tests his reflexes. There’s a crease in her brow, a furrow of concentration as she works that’s something he’s missed seeing since he was put into Black the first time.

He’s missed a lot.

“Where--” He clears his throat, the remainder of the healing pod air dissipating into the cabin as Allura helps him sit up completely. “Where did Keith go?”

“He’s, er...well, he went with Krolia to check on the other lions,” she says. “He’s not been feeling well recently.”

“He should be dead.”

“Shiro,” Allura chides. “None of that from you, please. We know if wasn’t your fault--you shouldn’t blame yourself. You  _ musn’t.”  _ She takes his shoulders in her hands and gives a squeeze, fighting to keep their gazes locked as he looks to the side. “He’s in a bad way.”

Shiro bites back a whine when she lets him go. “I want to see him.”

“I’m sure he’ll come back when he’s able,” Allura says. “He hasn’t left your side, Shiro. He needs you as much as you need him, but Voltron needs him as well. He’ll be with you soon. I promise.”

_ Soon,  _ as it is, isn’t soon enough for Shiro--well, Shiro’s  _ body-- _ and again he wakes from a dreamless sleep to the sight of Keith staring at him from the side of the med-pod. This time when he reaches for him, he manages to catch the tips of Keith’s fingers with his. “Hey,” he whispers. The same scent is stronger now, blanketing Shiro in the calm he’s needed since this whole ordeal began.

Keith’s skin holds a soft flush, his hair damp on his neck and eyes glassy as he tangles their fingers together. His grip is scarily warm. “Hey,” he says back. “I missed you.”

"You found me. Again." Shiro tries for a smile, and is rewarded with one so dazzling that it almost hurts, before he lets his head thump back to the med-pod. "You look like you're sick. You should be taking better care of yourself, Keith."

Keith waves the concern away. "I've had worse illnesses," he says, but his tone is off enough that Shiro doesn't believe him. "Remember that time I puked on your couch?"

Shiro laughs the best he's able to. "I could never forget." He tightens his fingers in Keith's before tugging lightly, tipping his face to where Keith's is  _ so close.  _ Their foreheads meet and he can feel the way Keith's lashes whisper against his, sinks into the way warm breath ghosts against his lips. "I almost had to throw the whole thing out, you know."

"I know."

"Keith," Krolia says, and Shiro feels the way Keith's eyes snap open in attention. "We need to figure out how we're going to do this. Bring Shiro if he's awake, please."

"I'm good," Shiro says when Keith looks down. "I should get up and move at some point anyway, right? Get the blood flowing." He groans as he sits up, fighting through the head rush that threatens to consume him. "Oh,  _ god--" _

Keith catches him as he lurches to the side, strong arms wrapping around his chest and holding him close. "I've got you," he assures. "You can do it, Shiro."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Shiro closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries again, this time managing to get his legs over the side of the pod. He sits there for a second--if he's asked later, he'll say it was nerves, but if he's being honest it's because he wants to bask in Keith's heat a bit longer before facing the world outside. His arm clutches hard at Keith's waist as he attempts to stand. It's sweet, the way Keith moves it over his shoulder instead, so he can more  _ carry  _ than  _ assist.  _ "It's okay, Keith, I've got it."

"I want to," Keith says, and his voice sounds so petulantly small that a pang of guilt tears through Shiro's core. "You went through a lot. Let me help you, okay?"

Shiro relaxes, lets his full weight press against Keith's side as they begin to walk. The light of the sun is blinding as it glances off the same ground that choked him days ago, and Shiro presses his face into the side of Keith's head in an attempt to hide from it. It's a mistake, because now he wants nothing more than to bury his fingers in the silky strands and stroke until Keith's a purring mess below him.

It's probably just a side effect of whatever alien scent Keith's wearing.

When Keith lets him go to stand by Krolia, who sends Shiro the occasional glance, Shiro wants to mourn him again. That's something to consider later, he thinks, something to stick a pin in until he's in the back of someone's lion with nothing to do but wait for the trip to reach its conclusion.

Perhaps Keith's lion.

He watches Keith bicker with Lance about planning, moving everyone around until he's got Krolia, Kosmo, and Shiro in Black.

"I'll go with Coran and Allura instead," Krolia says, and when Keith begins to protest, she lowers her head and whispers something that makes him turn cherry red. "We'll figure out arrangements for the next leg of the trip at some point in the future. Acceptable, Lance?"

"Fine," Lance says, crossing his arms with a pout. "Romelle and Kaltenecker can come with me, and you guys aren't getting any milkshakes."

"Did you even bother packing the blender?" Keith asks.

Lance points, opens his mouth, and shuts it almost immediately after. "No," he says, "but it's the thought that counts!"

"Well, it's good to know you're still considering treating yourself this early in the journey," Shiro teases.

"Thank you, Shiro," Lance says. "See? Someone around here gets it."

"Oh no, we get it, we're just not going to indulge the pettiness," Pidge says, pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose. "Are we close to being ready to leave? This is going to be long, and we should get going sooner rather than later. Twenty minutes to get everyone's things arranged, come on, let's go."

Shiro admires the preparedness.

It takes twenty-three to get everything settled, but no one other than Keith seems to notice or care. He grumbles unintelligible profanities as he goes through his pre-flight checks, just as Shiro taught him. When Shiro asks why he's so irritated, all he says is, "I want to get going."

"Five minutes isn't going to kill you."

Keith sighs, a sour look on his face. "It might. I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

**

One day, thirteen hours, and twenty-seven minutes into the journey finds Shiro fading in and out of consciousness on the mattress stuffed in Black's cargo bay. It's been one and a half days of what feels like  _ avoidance  _ from Keith, that same sweet smell suffocating as it sinks deep into every part of the lion. When Shiro asked about it soon after they lifted off, Keith looked so uncomfortable when he turned around that Shiro changed the subject.

Now, he wishes he would've pushed it.

It's intoxicating, setting every sense alight as he lays under the same blanket Keith uses in his hours between piloting. He brings it to his face and inhales deep, sifting through the scent to realize it's something like  _ honey,  _ and he laughs to himself. Of course Keith would smell of something so deliciously sweet, the polar opposite of the scowl he usually wears.

It makes him giddy, like a child, and he smiles as he rolls over and hugs the blanket to his chest. The awful ache in his bones isn't so bad anymore, as though being around Keith has healed him in some inexplicable way. It would be fitting, after all--he's saved Shiro again and again, why should bringing him back from death's door be any different?

The fingers digging into his chest are back as well, though he can't seem to find them painful. They're more questing, as though they're dancing along the delicate strings of his feelings in a search for something that's likely unobtainable. He wonders if he should tell Allura. Perhaps he picked up something in the void...

They don't feel bad, though, so he lets the feeling continue.

He lets himself drift along the thought of Keith saving him, thinking back on all the times Keith's pulled through for him. From the Garrison to the galaxy, there's no place Keith's let him down. There's been stumbling points along the way, of course, but Keith's been nothing but loyal and kind, even behind the veneer of apathy.

A knock breaks him from his reverie. "Hmm?" he hums, still buried in the blanket. It's not as though Keith will know or even care that Shiro's so invested in his scent.

Well, he hopes.

When Keith opens the door, that becomes the least of Shiro's worries. Keith looks like death warmed over. His skin is splotchy, sweat trickling down his forehead as he jackknifes forward. "Shiro," he grunts. "I need to ask you something, and I need you not to get mad that I didn't tell you before you came with me."

"Keith, sit down." Shiro bolts out of bed, nearly hitting the ground before he gets his bearings, and helps Keith to the edge of the bed, head between his knees. "You look so sick. What's wrong?"

"You know that cat you and Adam had?"

Shiro's face goes blank in confusion. "Uh...Smokey?"

"How she wasn't spayed for a while because you two were so busy with Garrison stuff?"

"Yeah?"

"Well..." Keith presses the tips of his fingers together, tenting his hands in front of his face as he takes a ragged breath in. "Um, you know how sometimes you say Galra are like...cats..."

Shiro puts a hand between Keith's shoulder blades and feels his pulse thundering below his shirt, so slick with sweat it sticks to both Keith's back and Shiro's hand when he tries to pull it away. "A while ago, yeah."

"I'm--I need--Galra--we're--"

It's not like Keith to stumble over his words like this, and Shiro attempts to work out what he means to the best of his abilities. "You're like Smokey?"

"No."

"You're..." Distantly, Shiro remembers conversations he's overheard over the years, and shock sets in at the same time the ghostly fingers around his heart begin to squeeze. "You're in heat?"

Keith lights up from head to toe, red rocketing along his skin as he buries his face in his hands and gives a weak nod. "I've been leading up to it for a week now," he says. "Krolia thinks it was the stress from our fight that brought it on. I don't know what to do, and she suggested--" He stops, sharp canines digging into his lip as he puts his hands on his knees and straightens his spine.

"What did she suggest, Keith?"

_ "Fuck,  _ why do you have to sound so nice about?" Keith asks, looking to the ceiling above. "I...I want...you--" His hands fist on his thighs as he blurts, "I trust you, and I want you to fuck me." It all comes out in one word, and before Shiro can even  _ think  _ about forming a reply, he continues. "Or at least stay with me while I try to get through it myself. I didn't want Krolia to do it, because, well--" He shrugs, looking pointedly away-- "And if you don't want to, I understand. It's a lot to ask, especially when you're healing and thinking about the way I couldn't manage to keep you on that moon."

Words become impossible in the wake of  _ Keith  _ all but admitting he failed  _ Shiro.  _ Shiro can't think of a proper way to articulate exactly how  _ wrong  _ that is, and in the endless seconds that he considers, Keith decides he's been rejected.

He scrubs his hands down his face and gets up to retreat to the cockpit. "Forget it," he mutters. "I'll call Pidge or Lance, or someone. I'll do it alone. You don't need to help me, I'll do it in the cockpit. I'll manage alone. I always ha--"

"Wait, Keith, I can d--"

Keith waves a gloved hand. "No," he says, a tremor in his voice as he presses his thighs together. "You don't have to. I won't force you to sleep with me." Before he manages to catch the door, Shiro's up and lurching to grab his wrist.

"I said  _ wait,  _ Keith," he says. He wobbles on his feet, his balance still not quite properly calibrated in his new body. It only brings him closer to Keith, and he knows he's crowding him against the door, but Keith doesn't seem to mind. He wraps both arms around Shiro's waist as though by instinct, rubbing his chin over Shiro's bare chest with a soft noise. "I  _ want  _ to."

They inhale in tandem, and it's as though everything falls into place. Shiro's falling again, spiralling from the top of a mountain of tension into the depths of bliss as the grip on his heart tightens before releasing him. It's as though the spirit snaps taut between them, both hearts bleeding raw emotion into their shared exhale. Their eyes are blown wide when they meet again.

"You felt that," Keith whispers, and Shiro feels the hope that flutters through Keith as he waits for an answer.

"Yeah," Shiro says, and Keith  _ trills  _ against him.

"A bond," he says reverently. His arms tighten and his scent blooms as Shiro cocks his head, and then Keith's adoration nearly puts him on his knees as it slams into him. "Krolia told me about them. I thought it was bullshit, because who needs  _ mates,  _ Shiro, but..." He stops, presses his forehead into Shiro's sternum as he pants. "We bonded."

"Oh," Shiro breathes.  _ Mates.  _ He knows of that, knows that Galra mate for life, but he's never heard of  _ this.  _ Keith's overwhelming happiness threatens to overtake him as it washes in waves over him, and he clasps the younger man close, flushing as Keith begins to feel over the muscles of his back. "What...what exactly does that mean?"

"That we're meant for each other," Keith murmurs. His warmth against Shiro becomes a balm, calling to him as Keith nuzzles into his neck and gives a rumbling sigh. It's not until a few seconds later that Shiro realizes he's  _ purring,  _ and he thinks that nothing Keith's ever done has been half as sweet. Pleasure spikes through him as Keith's hand comes up to splay over the scars between his shoulder blades. "We bonded..."

Shiro can think of worse ways to have a question brushed away than by a purring Keith, and he stands there before Keith comes to his senses and begins to push him backward. They nearly trip on Shiro's discarded shirt, but make it without incident. Keith sits Shiro against the wall and comes to sit in his lap, bracketing Shiro's hips with his thighs. He brushes the hair from Shiro's forehead, urging him wordlessly to say  _ something. _

"Back on the facility," Shiro says, "you dragged me out of that hell by telling me you..."

"That I love you," Keith says, and there's no hesitation, and the four words are the most beautiful melody Shiro's ever had the pleasure of experiencing. The feeling spreads between them and when Shiro looks down, he half expects to see the glow of an emotion that feels like  _ gold. _

Too long he's waited to hear those words spoken with adoration instead of the panic they'd held on the crumbling moon.

"Keith, I--" Shiro's eyes dart over Keith' face, taking in the sweat beading on his forehead, the way his pupils dilate with each passing second until his eyes are nearly black. "I don't want to mess things up between us," he says quickly, and as devastation begins to take hold of Keith, he backtracks. "I want to be there for you. I  _ need  _ to be there for you."

Keith slides off and sits next to him, settling flush against his side as he tugs Shiro's arm around him. Shiro wants to kiss away the furrow between his brow, erase every bit of doubt that still lingers within him. Keith's skin is no longer quite as heated, as though the fever is beginning to abate. He hopes that's the case, because seeing Keith sick like that makes Shiro feel more than a little useless.

"Do you  _ want  _ me?" Keith asks after a beat. "Because that's what I need from you, Shiro. I want you, and I want you to want me."

"Yeah," Shiro breathes. He lays his head on top of Keith's then leans further down to nose into his neck as he lets the breath rush out of him. "We go at your pace," he continues, "unless you can't wait anymore." He hopes that's not the case, because he'd rather be fully awake and present when he gets his hands on Keith for the first time.

He wants to give him everything he's got to offer.

"I can," Keith says, much to his relief. "I promise." He begins to trail his fingers up and down Shiro's arm, no pattern, simply content to caress Shiro into a trance. The low light of the cabin does nothing to help, and it's all Shiro can do to keep consciousness within his grasp. He thinks of the few times he's been to an actual masseuse, and can't remember  _ any  _ of them feeling as good as the feather-light touch of Keith's fingers.

He doesn't know how much time's passed when Keith nudges him awake. "I'm going back up to the cockpit," he says softly. "You can sleep if you want, and I'll come get you if it starts getting unmanageable." There's more flush in his cheeks and Shiro can feel his temperature beginning to ramp up again, but his eyes are clear and coherent. "Up to you."

"'m comin' with," Shiro mumbles. “If I can help you in any way, it's being by you."  _ And you'll help me right back,  _ he thinks as Keith gets up and offers his hand.  _ Keep me grounded.  _ "I’m not leaving you again."

It's the right thing to say, if Keith's grin is any indication. "Good," he says, ducking his head. "Good. Take a blanket, though. It gets cold, and I don't want you getting sick in addition to all this."

"All this," Shiro snorts, but tries pulling on the blanket anyway. It's caught underneath him, and he struggles before Keith takes mercy and helps pull it around his shoulders. "You've turned into a gentleman on me, haven't you?"

Keith smooths his hands over Shiro's chest with a self-satisfied smirk. “I learned from the best."

"Mhmm." Shiro presses their foreheads together before turning Keith and pushing him toward the door, following soon after. Keith's right, the cockpit is always colder than the cabin. It shouldn't come as quite the surprise it does, but being half-bare in a new body that's used to Keith's heat by its side doesn't lend itself to remembering well.

Keith settles himself in the pilot's seat before thinking better and springing up, offering it to Shiro. "Probably more comfortable," he says, rubbing at his nape. "You deserve it."

"You take it." Shiro kneels on the floor, waiting for Keith to take the seat before he reclines against his thigh. The warm muscle makes for a fantastic pillow, and Keith's idle conversation as he begins to spill his guts about everything Shiro's missed is a welcome distraction from the aching in his joints. Shiro's lulled close to sleep again before Keith falls silent, then loudly proclaims Shiro's not going to be his first.

"I'm sorry," he says after Shiro's calmed from being startled. "I just--"

"I--"

"I had this...fling...with Regris before he died," Keith says, words tumbling from his mouth. "He'd had his mating glands taken out so we never...bonded, it wasn't this big commitment or anything, you're just...not..."

Shiro's silent, trying to remember which one Regris was, or if he'd even known him. He supposes the silence may be a way to dodge the fact that for a split second, he'd experienced a brutal spike of jealousy. It confounds him, but he kicks himself when he feels Keith shy away. "You're not my first either," he says, though it's stupid. Keith knows that already. "Not even Adam was. That doesn't change anything."

"Then why was it so upsetting?"

"Not upsetting, unexpected," Shiro admits. As an attempt to make Keith feel any bit better, he lets slip a secret of his own. "I mean yeah, I sort of wish I could've been the one to show you everything, but that's no reason to be upset. It just makes some fantasies unobtainable." He doesn't look up, but Keith's sharp inhale puts a small smile on his face. He stiffens below Shiro, and Shiro adjusts the blanket around where he's beginning to stir in grey sweatpants that are just on the side of too small.

"You--you can't say that about me and then not tell me what the fantasies were," Keith says. "You thought about me?  _ Fantasized  _ about me?"

"Oh, god, Keith--" Shiro tracks his hand mindlessly over Keith's thigh, his calf, the arm he's got resting in his lap. Kosmo gets up from his perch on the other side of the chair and bats at the edge of the blanket, attempting to wrestle it away. Keith only laughs, and soon enough Kosmo decides he's not winning and flops in front of Shiro with a whining sigh to bare his belly for a pet.

Shiro decides to give it all up after several minutes. "At least weekly since Kerberos. And not just sex stuff--I thought a lot about being your first everything, about what might have been if I'd stayed on Earth.”

Keith keeps quiet, but when Shiro looks up he's got the most ridiculous smile on his face, and that is enough.

It's a quiet hour after that, one that slips away as Shiro begins to let his mind wander again. He begins with something he's thought plenty about--the way Keith's lips will feel parted under his. It'll be a little rough, he knows, as Keith's anxiety gets the better of him and his lips are usually torn by teeth not quite of Earth. The scratch will be worth it, and so will the way those teeth feel as they sink into his bottom lip.

He's always imagined Keith to be a biter.

Blood rushes south as he presses his face into Keith's thigh, breathing deep and hoping Keith doesn't think it odd that he can't keep himself away. He wants to press his lips against every inch of the heated flesh, to get his mouth on what lays behind the black of Keith's under armor suit, but instead he finds himself pulled back into sleep. It's so easy here, safe with Keith, that he finds he doesn't mind.

It's not a surprise that Keith stars in his dream. This time they're in a soft bed, morning light shining through curtains that have no business being as gauzy and beautiful as they are. The stark white of the sheets and blankets blends in with the creamy pale skin of Keith's stomach as he rolls onto his side, dragging a finger down Shiro's chest as he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth. "You look good," he says quietly, and Shiro looks down to see small purple marks scattered among his scars. "Like you're mine."

"Mm," Shiro hums. He shuffles forward to toss his arm over Keith's side, pulling him closer until they're flush against each other. "You know I am, baby."

"And I wouldn't change that for the world." Keith's lips catch his in a dizzying kiss, one that makes Shiro feel like he's floating as Keith's tongue traces the outer shell of his lips. He lets Keith do as he wishes--he always does in these lazy early-morning hours. "Coffee?"

"Rather have you instead," Shiro replies, and Keith kisses him harder before begging please. Shiro moves to blanket him, presses him down into the mattress as he steals all the air between them. Keith's breathless and flushed when he moves away, brow knit in pleasure as Shiro makes his way down the lean curves of his body. He pauses then, just enough to pull Keith's thigh over his shoulder and mouth lazily at the skin he marked so thoroughly last night.

Keith jerks a bit, and Shiro bites gently in retaliation. "'m sensitive there, you know that," he grumbles.

Shiro grins. "Morning, baby," he says. "Time to wake up." Keith's thigh jerks again, and Shiro growls before his head makes contact with something very tangible, and something that  _ hurts.  _ "What the--"

"Shiro, it's nowhere near morning," Keith says, strained, and then Shiro's staring at the bayard port in Black, very well acquainted with the armrest of her pilot's seat. "You, ah..."

"Oh, god," Shiro says. "Shit, that--what did I do? I was dreaming--"

"You dream of me, too?" Keith asks. He swallows hard, and Shrio looks up to see him sweaty and flushed again.

"I did the entire time I was gone,” he admits. He tents his knees under the blanket and presses his forehead into his hand as he considers what the best way to go about this is. Is he supposed to make the first move? Should Keith? He decides to go for what's comfortable and settles for wrapping an arm around Keith's leg, hugging him the best he can. "I've always wanted this."

Keith's fingers on his chin are gentle as he tips it up, meeting Shiro's eyes with a kind smile. "You're right where you need to be, then," he says. He opens a comm to the other lions to tell them they'll be unavailable for the foreseeable future, and when he shuts it, Shiro feels stupid for worrying about who needs to do something first.

Keith's on him in a second, falling to the floor and putting hands on Shiro that are so hot Shiro wonders after his safety. He's  _ desperate  _ in a way Shiro's never seen him, mumbling about how it hurts and how Shiro can make it better, he knows. "I shouldn't have waited this long," he gasps when Shiro pulls him to stand, "but you looked so peaceful, I didn't want to--"

_ "Always  _ wake me if you need to," Shiro says. "I don't want you hurting. I never want that for you."

"Mmn." The cargo bay door parts and Keith leads him back, sitting him down on the bed before pausing to stand in front of him. "This isn't exactly how I'd imagined you seeing me for the first time, but  _ ah~"  _ Keith sighs when Shiro reaches forward to cup his hip, thumb rubbing soothing circles over the black. "Galra--well, Galra  _ omegas  _ are built differently."

"Keith, I'm sure I've seen plenty worse," Shiro assures.

"Nervous." Keith huffs a breath as he fixes his hands on the hem of his shirt, and as he pulls it off, Shiro wonders why he'd ever think Shiro would do anything but adore the way his body looks. He wants to stand and ravish Keith against the wall, but this is Keith's time. This is something he needs to do himself.

He strips slow, sensual as he can amongst the sweat dripping from him, and there’s desperation in his voice as he tells Shiro how bad he wants him. When he's done, Shiro can't help himself and leans forward to wrap his arm around Keith's waist and drag him forward. Keith's more than anything Shiro imagined, the slightest bounce in his chest as he shies away from Shiro's cold nose. His scent is intoxicating, tantalizing, and Shiro  _ wants  _ to reach out and lick the slick dripping from Keith's pussy down onto his thighs. He holds back, though, because Keith's biting down on his finger as though he's afraid something bad's going to happen.

"Keith," Shiro murmurs into the dark thatch of hair on Keith's lower stomach. "You've been holding out on me."

Keith laughs then, a little slip of his thing as his hand falls to rest on Shiro's shoulder. "I don't want to rush you, but you need to fuck me now," he says, a little breathless.

"Get on the bed, then." Shiro wishes it could be a little more  _ want  _ and a little less  _ need-- _ he's always imagined something more than the desperate rutting against each other that they're doing now--and though Keith coming undone around for the first time has him ready to die in the best way, he rests his head against Keith's back and longs for something less feral.

"Fuck," Keith whines, sensitive after his orgasm as Shiro begins to move again. His hands fist in the blanket, nearly tearing holes as he presses back again and again. "Please, please, please~"

"Keith," Shiro grunts. He can feel the way tension spirals in him, how Keith draws it out with every sigh and desperate look back. Sex and sweat and honey cloud Shiro's mind, and he manages to plant his hand by Keith's head as he drives home one last time, then pulls out and paints the base of Keith's spine pearly white. His chest heaves as he sits there, unable to move but unwilling to crush Keith.

Eventually, he's able to shift himself to the side and fall to the mattress with his head smashed against Keith's shoulder. He doesn't look at the extensive scarring or bruises now--he's unwilling to, doesn't want the fading bliss ruined by something he could not control. Keith seems content to lay there in the puddle of his own slick, boneless and limp as he flops back against Shiro. After a moment he turns to face him, smearing Shiro's release all over the sheets.

Heart to heart, face to face, they lay in the bed as Keith begins to purr. The warm rumble resonates along the lines of the bond between them, and Shiro is overwhelmed by the sheer simplicity of the love that Keith feels in this moment. "Keith," he whispers. "What--"

"Shh," Keith breathes. He traces a hand over Shiro's chest, over the scars and bruises Shiro's trying so hard to ignore. Keith's not the only one who got his ass kicked on that moon, and even after the healing pod, Shiro's injuries are tender to the touch. "Not until I can actually think. Holy fuck, Shiro, you're good."

Shiro hugs him closer. "Yeah," he says softly, and Keith freezes when he lets go. "Hey, hey, it's only for a minute," he says when Keith reaches for him. "I want to clean up."

"Okay." Keith pouts.

Shiro's never gotten to the small bathroom quicker, nor has he ever cleaned himself quite so harsh.  _ It's fine,  _ he tells himself as the last vestiges of contentment are sullied by anxiety.  _ Keith enjoyed it, you enjoyed it. _

The fact that it didn't live up to expectations doesn't mean it wasn't enjoyable.

Keith's got his legs spread when Shiro walks back out, damp cloth in hand. "Twice in one round isn't bad," he purrs, raising his hips. "Want to go for a third?"

"Can't," Shiro says. "But trust me, if I could, I would." Because he'd try and make it better, take Keith apart the way he  _ should  _ be taken apart. Keith deserves to be spoiled by Shiro's talented hand, not spread out like an animal on a bed that's almost too small for one, let alone two. He kisses along Keith's spine as he cleans the slick from his folds, and Keith shivers below him. "Too tired, though."

"Is it too early to call you old man?" Keith teases.

Shiro's lips twitch up in a barely-there smile. "You can probably call me whatever you want and I'd be okay with it."

"Sure thing, old timer." Keith's eyes glimmer with mischief when he looks back, and Shiro leans forward to press their lips together. When he pulls away, Keith's gaze is half lidded and sleepy as he stretches  _ around  _ the puddle this time. "I know I told everyone just the next hour or two, but I'm so--" He yawns, and Shiro laughs to himself at the way his tongue does curl like a cat's.  _ "Tired." _

"They'll be able to do without us," Shiro says. He motions Keith up--there’s no small amount of complaining about it--to strip the bed and order Keith to find new sheets. There's no way he's going to try by himself. It'll only be embarrassing for the both of them.

Soon enough, Keith's breathing evens under Shiro's arm as he falls unconscious. His hair flutters with Shiro's every exhale, and Shiro fights the urge to run his fingers through the locks and chooses instead to cup his hand over Keith's heart.

Now, in the silence, the cuts and bruises become magnetic.

He caused  _ extensive  _ damage, the sort that marks both body and soul, and he's not sure Keith will ever fully recover. Purple blooms across Keith's abdomen, spreads from his shoulder, and his leg is painted a sickly yellow that Shiro wishes didn't make him want to vomit with anxiety. Every injury is another reminder of how he's failed Keith, of how he couldn't keep his promise that he'd never give up.

He had, in the never-ending plane of Black's consciousness. He'd given up hope, love,  _ life,  _ because watching Keith walk away from Voltron was harder than anything he'd ever had to do before. He'd given up any chance of returning, any chance of another life.

Looking at Keith now is more painful than looking on from Black's eyes as he realized Keith was going to die alone, falling to a moon that he'd never loved. He presses up on his elbow, peering down to make sure Keith's well and truly asleep before, at long last, he lets a tear fall down his face. He cries for the things he's already mourned, like the years he'll never get back and the way this new body isn't  _ his.  _ He cries for the things left behind, like Adam, his comfort zone, and the life he'd considered he might lead with Keith someday. He cries for the things to come, for his vision of what will await them on Earth, for wherever he'll make his home, and for every unknown.

In the dim light of Black's cabin, he weeps for the fact he's lost every sense of consistency.

Being in this body feels like being in his original one, back before the Galra had taken care of his illnesses. Aches and pains threaten to rise up and consume him as he tries not to sniff too hard into the mattress. Keith's back is damp with his tears, and Shiro prays to whatever's listening that when he swipes his hand through the mess, Keith will stay asleep and not wake to the sight of Shiro falling apart.

He feels like he's drifting again, and it's not the pleasant drift he experienced in unconsciousness. Kosmo zips back into the cabin at some point, peering over Keith's stomach to meet Shiro's eyes and beg a spot on the bed. Shiro's not sure how Keith feels about it, but he could use the extra comfort, so he pats by his feet and watches as the wolf slinks up onto the mattress to curl between their legs. He whuffs when Keith's leg twitches, and when he lays his head on Shiro's calves, Shiro finds himself slipping into sleep once again.

He wakes to a painted sky so littered with stars it should be impossible. Red and gold and pink all bleed seamlessly into one another, each pinprick of silver light catching his eye and sending him reeling as he recognizes the constellations.

_ Black. _

_ Dead. _

Shiro falls back on his hands, scuttling backwards in search of any sort of shelter. He won't find it, he knows--there's nothing but endless black on this hallowed ground that reflects the light from above. It's not quite  _ panic  _ running through him so much as anger, frustration, and his hands ball into fists as he curses.

He should just accept it.

He asked for this, anyway.

He supposes he should have known his brief interlude to the real would would be just that--brief, as though he were a ghost sent back to finish its business. Now, he doesn't know how long he'll stay here again. Days, months, years? Eternity? It's not as though there's any clocks to watch the hours while away on, and he cradles his head in his hands as the dread begins to set in.

_ Keith's not here, either. _

"Keith doesn't know," he breathes, and that is what spurs him to his feet and into a sprint. Each step is a mile on his way to something--a door, a gate to the outside--he's not sure exists. He can hear Keith's voice echoing across the plane as he runs, begging him to come back. It's the same agonized cry as when he screamed for Shiro's help getting back to the paladins, and Shiro whirls around fruitlessly as he struggles to find the source of the voice.

_ "Shiro, I need you to stop, please~" _

And he  _ would,  _ if only he could find him. The cloying honey scent that makes his head fuzzy is back, rolling across his mind until he can concentrate on nothing else.

_ "Shiro, I'm here." _

It's as though he's suffocating, trying to tear through space and time itself to get to the man who's announced himself as  _ his.  _ When Keith begs him to stop one final time, he's jerked out of one terrifying beauty and into another as his eyes snap open and he sees Keith looking down, panicked. His hair is a halo around his head, pupils dilated and teeth cutting into his lip as he stares down.

"Shiro?" he asks, and he sounds every bit a scared child as Shiro gasps up at him. "You were terrified. What the hell happened? Where were you?"

Shiro doesn't answer, only pitches forward to press every possible inch of himself against Keith as he can. The heat fever is back, he can feel it, and he wants to take it inside himself so he can burn away all the memories of a past that no longer matters. Keith is  _ here,  _ in his arms, worried that he's not okay, and that makes facing the unknown just a bit less scary.

His heart beats heavy in his ears as he lays in Keith's arms, clutching as though Keith's the only thing holding him in this mortal plane. It's not the just-woken moments he's fond of, the ones between sleep and waking where the rest of the world doesn't exist, but it's quiet enough, and he lets out a shuddering breath into Keith's chest as he tries to dispel the panic. He brushes his lips over the three vicious scars that adorn Keith's shoulder from his Blade trials, just to remind himself that he's there.

"Shiro?" Keith whispers, lips barely moving as they brush over Shiro's earlobe.

"I was back in the lion..."

"Oh, Shiro." His name from Keith's lips soothes him as they rock back and forth, cradled in the arms of the universe. It's not the first time Keith's held Shiro like this and if the past is anything to go by, it won't be the last. Shiro doesn't mind, but before he can open his mouth to thank Keith, the comm link crackles with a hail from Krolia.

"We can't, mom," Keith tells her when she asks them to participate in a training exercise she's prepared. "A little indisposed, here."

_ "You haven't gotten through it, yet?" _

Lance butts in. "Still  _ going through it? Puh-lease, they've got so much pent-up tension it'll be  _ years  _ before they manage to get out of that lion without jumping each other." _

_ "Oh, no,"  _ Krolia says.  _ "You misunderstand. Keith's going thr--" _

"Mom!"

_ "Er, he's got..."  _ Shiro can hear the wheels turning in her head as the paladins chatter over one another, trying to figure it out before she exclaims,  _ "He's got the slipperies!" _

Keith's gearing up for a yell when Coran takes over the call.  _ "I can help you with that, Number Four! All you have to do is j--" _

_ "NO!"  _ the entirety of the party yells at once, and all at once, they burst into laughter at Coran's dissatisfied  _ hmph.  _ When it peters out, Keith--with Pidge's help--assures everyone it's not quite what they think. Pidge is much more help, as they manage to get the point across better than  _ 'uh, it's sort of like a cat.' _

Shiro's the first one to cut the link, tugging Keith back onto the bed and fitting himself into his arms. The hum of Black's engine is a soothing noise in the background, blending in with the rumbling in Keith's chest as Shiro keeps his face pressed against it. When Keith begins to run a hand up and down his spine, Shiro whispers, "You saved me, again."

Keith's breath hitches, and Shiro feels a smile tug on his lips before he says, "We saved each other. There's no need to panic."

"I'm not--"

"I can feel it," Keith whispers, settling a hand over Shiro's heart as he presses their temples together. "You're here with me, Shiro. I'll keep you safe."

Shiro can't help but smile at that. He nuzzles into Keith's neck, seeking out the source of his scent. He wonders if it's something he'll ever get used to, or if it's something that will soothe him no matter how many times he needs it. His lips fall at the thought that perhaps there won't  _ be  _ an eventually, that when this is all over, Keith will decide that Shiro's broken parts aren't worth it.

"Keith," he whispers, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

He doesn't know. Perhaps it's for not realizing Keith wanted him sooner. Perhaps it's for every time he's gotten himself into trouble and needed saving. Perhaps it's for all the times he's let Keith down over the years.

Perhaps it's for all the ways he'll find to fuck this up in the future.

"Just sorry," he mumbles.

Keith noses into the underside of his jaw, and Shiro shudders as pointed canines skim above his pulse. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. Krolia's woken up to find me fighting things in my sleep before. I was worried about you, that's all."

"Right." Shiro screws his eyes shut against all the words he wants to say, and lets Keith's hands begin to map his body. This drifting is slightly more welcome, allowing him to relax under the gentle scratch of blunt nails and the soft puff of Keith's breath against his chest. There's very little conscious thought in the way he edges closer to Keith, because all he knows is that he wants him closer. The heat is the furthest thing from his mind, and all that matters is the way the calloused pads of Keith's fingers run up and down his sides.

It's soon, though, that a low whine breaks through the haze, and Shiro looks down to see Keith's thighs wet even where they're clamped together. Keith’s temperature is impossible to ignore, jerking him almost violently back into the waking world. Shiro buries his face in the pillow with a tremulous sigh as he slides his hand down the bare skin of Keith's stomach. "Shit, Keith," he curses softly as Keith rocks against the heel of his hand. "Tell me you need me. Don't let me go away like that when I'm supposed to be helping you."

"You needed  _ me,  _ not my body," Keith mumbles. There's only the slightest hesitation before he rolls Shiro onto his back and slides onto him, pressing his folds against where Shiro's hardening. "You don't need to help me if you're not feeling up to it, I promise." His throat vibrates in a soft, pleased moan when Shiro shifts up to press his lips against Keith's collarbone, breath washing warm over pebbled nipples as he assures Keith that he's here for a reason, and the reason is Keith.

The sharp tang of arousal eases slightly as Keith's hands begin to wander, and Shiro considers the fact that he may very well be able to get drunk on this smell alone. Shiro lets him take his time. He sinks into the mattress under Keith's weight and allows his legs to spread, creating a proper resting place for Keith as he leans back. Every second brings renewed slickness, but Shiro can't bring himself to mind the way his legs are being drenched. Everything else comes second to the focus he puts on Keith, and the confidence blooming in him that Keith is  _ here,  _ and he's not leaving anytime soon.

"Can I ride you?" Keith asks eventually, a mere whisper. There's nerves in his voice, a small quiver that sets the bond between them to humming with an eager anticipation. "I--you look rough, but I can't wait anymore, Shiro. It's either this or you can just watch, I don't know." He licks his lips and looks down, and Shiro feels him clenching around nothing as he waits. "Please?"

Shiro presses up on his arm to marry their lips in a slow kiss, the kind that takes both forever and no time at all as it promises eternity. Wordlessly, he guides Keith's hands between them, and Keith gasps at the contact. He sinks down in no time, searing around Shiro and holding him so tight that Shiro doesn't know if he'll ever let him go.

He appreciates Keith's broken moans, the sheen of his skin in the light of the cargo bay. He watches as sweat drips down Keith's temple, down to his cheek and over his pulse to soak into the strands of hair that have settled against his throat. It's so much longer than it was when Shiro died and he wants to bury his hand in it, and so he does, tipping Keith's neck down so he can kiss his temple as he fucks up into him.

_ Tenderness. _

He's always wanted to show Keith what tenderness feels like.

After a lazy minute, Keith's eyes flutter open as he winds their fingers together and brings Shiro's hand to his chest. "Touch me," he pleads. "Just touch me."

Shiro pauses then, tells Keith to stop so he has the chance to shuffle back against the wall until they're chest to chest. It's as Keith's head falls back, his cries of pleasure echoing through the chamber, that the carefully guarded vault at the bottom of Shiro's heart cracks open and he's nearly undone by the  _ love  _ that rockets through him.

Keith's it for him, and he was a fool to ever think it could've been anyone else.

As Shiro presses into him, hand spread between Keith's shoulders as they rock on the thin mattress, he makes a promise to himself that not even death itself could drag him away again. Keith's sloppy around his cock, muscles lax and loose and so wet that at several points, Shiro has a hard time staying inside where he's supposed to be. Keith doesn't seem to mind, though, barely seems to notice as he bounces in Shiro's lap.

"Unh," Keith moans. His jaw opens with a hiss of pleasure when Shiro reaches down to press two fingers against him, dragging out more soft noises with every pass. Keith clamps around his cock, pressing the back of a hand to his mouth after a particularly sharp cry. "Yes, yes, yes," he pants. "Oh, please, Shiro~"

"Take it away, Keith, I want to hear you," Shiro murmurs. "No one else is here. Let go. Let go, Keith, baby." He wants him bare, open as he can be in the small cabin. He wants Keith  _ comfortable,  _ and vows to do whatever he needs to make that happen. He takes his hand away, leaving a cool trail as he tracks it up Keith's side, his chest, to cradle his jaw and brush a thumb against Keith's kiss-bitten lower lip. "Open up."

Keith groans again, grunts softly as he slams down onto Shiro. Shiro can't imagine he's ever been one to be loud--covert Blade missions wouldn't lend themselves to the desperate cries Shiro wants so badly to hear--but every noise wrought from his lips is beautiful to Shiro, mouth dropping wide as he obeys.

He doesn't shout, but cries as he calls Shiro's name. He doesn't hide the way breath catches in his chest when Shiro rubs against the place inside him that makes him see stars. He doesn't hold back when Shiro brings him to orgasm, tossing his head back and keening as pleasure spirals to the breaking point in his core.

Slick rushes from him after a particularly hard thrust, his inner walls pulsing along Shiro's cock while Shiro sits still under him. As he comes down, breathing hard and resting his forehead against Shiro's shoulder, Shiro nuzzles into the side of his face. "Mind if I try for another one?" he whispers. "I want to make you feel good, Keith. Let me make you come again."

"Shiro~" Keith breaks off in a sigh as Shiro rolls up into him. His spine arches at the sensation of Shiro's cock dragging out of him, fingers digging into his chest and leaving sharp needlepoints of pain as his nails dig in. He slumps back in boneless pleasure, lips parted sinfully as he nods. "Fuck, yeah,  _ shit,  _ Shiro, fuck me again."

Shiro no longer holds back, taking control and fucking him harder until his body begins to tighten, pleasure curling deep in his gut. He guides Keith forward to slump against him, and the way Shiro thrusts into him has him coming again with a keening whine. Shiro’s own release hits him seconds later, and he seals his lips against Keith's collarbone and sucks as he spills into velvet heat.

"Nnn," Keith mumbles. His face rubs back and forth along Shiro's shoulder, lips dragging along sweaty skin before stopping at the hollow of his throat. "Love..."

"Mhmm," Shiro whispers. His knuckles skim up and down Keith's spine before he warns him, laying Keith down on the bed and leaning back to spread the younger man's legs. Keith whines then, a long low thing that sets Shiro's nerves on fire. His entire body is flushed and Shiro's not quite sure if it's from exertion or embarrassment, but he loves the sight just the same.

"Shiro," he says, grumbling.

Shiro continues to touch the tender insides of his thighs as he stares down. Keith's beautiful like this, white on pink as Shiro's release drips from him. Something primal shifts in Shiro, something that preens at the sight of his  _ mate  _ spread open, claimed.

Keith's breathing evens slowly, his twitching limbs quieting as Shiro cleans him gently. "Thank you," he says, and Shiro leans down to press a soft kiss to the inside of his knee. "For..."

Shiro looks up through his lashes. "For what, Keith?"

Keith looks away. "Everything," he says. He begins to tremble again, and this time Shiro doesn't stop him when he shuts his legs and turns away. "Everything," he says again, and the whisper holds everything in the world. He pulls the blanket over his legs and reaches a hand back, grabbing for Shiro without looking. "We should probably--" He takes a deep breath. "We should call the others."

"We don't have to if you're not ready," Shiro says.

Keith sits up and shakes his head, and Shiro aches with the way Keith's anxieties shine so clearly through the bond. He wants to smooth away the deep furrow between his brow. "We need to," Keith says.

"All right." Shiro picks up their clothes, does his best to help Keith dress. It's hard, though, and he nearly ends up smacking his partner in the face more than once before Keith tells him to please stop. When all is done and they're suitable for public viewing, he wraps around Shiro's back as they move to the cockpit. "What's this about, Keith?" Shiro asks softly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I want to be close to you, is that so hard to handle?" Keith snips. "It's not like we have a lot of time to ourselves where we're not sleeping or I'm not jumping you. Do you mind?"

Shiro tightens his arm around Keith's shoulders and inhales against the side of his head, attempting to calm his racing heart. "Never," he whispers. He hopes Keith can feel the smile breaking across his lips, and also hopes he doesn't realize it's forced. Keith's body is already beginning to burn again, but Shiro supposes he can get a little sweaty to make Keith feel more at home.

Keith hails Krolia and the rest of the lions, and Lance is no short amount of irritated about being called away from his video game. He's placated by Hunk, who manages to convince him that it's worth it for the treat he has in store for everyone after finishing this training session.

Krolia always manages to think up new and effective simulations, and this one is no exception. They're plunged onto a planet with all manner of horrors awaiting them, and their objective is to retrieve a power core from an abandoned power plant. It'd be a quick in and out, were it not for the fact that the air is so toxic that even stepping out of the lions in suits brings the risk of death.

Shiro watches as Keith goes through the motions, watches every expression that flits across his face as he leads the team through gnarled underbrush and winding ventilation shafts to the middle of the plant. After a time, he comes to realize Keith doesn't and likely won't need his help here, so his mind begins to wander.

He really does wonder how many times it's going to be Keith saving him. He's gotten half used to the idea, but he can't say he's truly comfortable with it. It's not that he doesn't want to be saved by Keith--quite the opposite.

He loves it.

He's just not sure how many times Keith will save him before deciding that it's the last.

Shiro's hand flexes on the back of the pilot's chair as an explosion blooms on screen, followed by a flashing light and Krolia's disappointed voice telling him they're dead now, try again. "Fine," Keith snarls. "Guys, on me."

"Hey," Shiro says, and his hand falls to Keith's shoulder to rub instead. "Calm down, Keith, it's fine. We'll get it again."

"It's not," Keith says, and his eyes are narrowed dangerously when he looks back. The rest of the paladins are silent as he wrestles himself under control. "I'll be okay, Shiro. I'm okay."

"If you say so..."

"I do," Keith says firmly, and there's turmoil in Shiro's mind as the simulation begins again and he's left to consider what the proper course of action is. Keith doesn't need him, the rest of the crew is hyperfocused on their fake mission, and Kosmo is only nosing into his hand because he wants a pet.

The mere act of trying to wrap his head around whatever soured Keith's mood has Shiro on edge and hurtling toward exhaustion, so he ends up bidding a quick farewell and retreats to lay on the bed in the cabin. With the blanket pulled tight around him and Kosmo at his back he curls into himself, arm around his head and knees up to his chest.

It's just another time when the universe is too much.

He wants to reach out to Black, feel her consciousness smooth against his again. That would be something comforting to hang on to. The want to hold onto something tangible wins out in the end and he rolls over to grab hold of Kosmo's ruff, pressing his face into the thick midnight fur as he inhales shakily.

"I don't remember how," he mumbles, not that the wolf can understand. "It's been so long since I've had something like this and I don't fucking remember how to love him, Kosmo. I don't remember how this should feel." He sniffs. "Is it always this frustrating? I didn't ever second guess myself like this before, not that I can remember, other than when it was at the end of Adam and I. It was easier."

He can almost hear Keith's rich laugh, along with his teasing tone as he says,  _ "It should be easy, Shiro--we've loved each other for long enough." _

And they  _ have,  _ Shiro  _ knows  _ they have. From soon after Keith began at the Garrison, he's known, and maybe that's the reason it's so difficult now. Maybe years and years stacking together make it feel like somehow this, their getting together like this, isn't real. It's not how either of them wanted it to happen, and Shiro feels as though this is going to end in disappointment for the both of them.

He never wants to disappoint Keith, doesn't want to make him hurt.

Shiro doesn't remember drifting off to sleep, but he wakes to Keith's weight dipping the mattress beside him. He starts to attention, but doesn't open his eyes. Kosmo is still curled beside him and for that, he's grateful as Keith's hand skims up and down his arm. He holds himself steady for a second before tilting his head back into Keith's knuckles when they come to rest on his cheek.

"I'm sorry," Keith says after a long minute. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Shiro cracks an eye open.

"I've never been good at this sort of stuff," Keith continues, looking dead ahead at the wall as his fingers play idly over Shiro's cheek and neck. "And I know excuses aren't what you want to hear. I don't want to make them." He pauses then, takes a breath and closes his eyes. "You've known me a long time," he whispers. "It's a lot of change at once, and I need to adjust. I'll do better in the future, I promise."

Shiro pauses for a split second before patting Kosmo one last time and reaching up to clutch at Keith's fingers like a child. "You're right. I don't want excuses," he says, and Keith stiffens before Shiro grips tighter. "Let me finish."

"All right."

"It's new for both of us," Shiro says. "It's a big enough thing we shouldn't expect it to be smooth sailing."

"I wasn't exp--"

Shiro interrupts him, looking back and meeting his eyes with a soft gaze. "I think we both were," he says quietly. "Keith, it's been years of us dancing around this. There's bound to have been some expectations somewhere along the line."

Keith hangs his head, silent.

"We just...yeah. Have to adjust." Shiro nods once, turning his face back into the pillow as Keith lays out beside him. He attempts for humor. "I certainly wasn't expecting you to be so into me." When he turns over to look at Keith again, Keith's blush is back. "Your turn."

"I wasn't expecting you to ever see me as more than the kid who followed you around the Garrison grounds," Keith blurts out, and the words hang heavy in the two inches between them. "I didn't know I was ever going to be more than that. I didn't know I was going to be your second in command or that you thought enough of me to give me control of Voltron, Shiro. I didn't know."

Shiro's eyes widen as his hand comes to rest heavy on Keith's chest. "You didn't know," he says slowly, and Keith nods. "Keith, baby, do you really not see that in yourself? Have I not shown you how highly I think of you, how I have for years now?"

Keith shrugs, and Shiro feels his chest tighten. "I think you did, I just didn't want to believe it," he says. "Everything's always so transitive with us and the paladins and the universe. Even you, Shiro. You  _ died."  _ He bites his lip, fingers tightening on Shiro's bicep. "You died," he says, and it's the barest hint of a whimper as he pulls closer. "That's what I expected. I expected you to be dead and now you're not, and I have to deal with  _ all this shit at once,  _ and I just want to hold you close so you'll never leave me again."

Shiro's inhale feels like knives in his lungs before he speaks. "I haven't been there for you for so many things," he says, voice hoarse. "Why do you still want me, Keith? You could have the world."

"Because I love you."

"Why?"

Keith's fingers fall away at that, and he lays on his back to stare at the ceiling. Shiro sees the way his jaw works, the water beginning to pool at the edge of his eyes, and he feels Keith's anger rising as he searches for an answer. Shiro doesn't want to be the cause of it, almost can't bear to know he's the one making Keith feel this way, but if he keeps fixating on the reasons Keith shouldn't love him, he'll only cause worse pain in the end.

"I almost killed you, Keith. I swore to myself I'd protect you, get you through life the best I could," Shiro says. "I couldn't do that," he whispers, and all the times he's failed flash through his head. "I couldn't save you."

Keith pulls away entirely at that, and Kosmo's weight at Shiro's back goes away as he poofs to Keith's side and lets himself be tucked into Keith's arms. "I don't know what you want me to say, Shiro," he whispers as he buries his face in Kosmo's fur. "It's not about you saving me. It's not about you  _ failing.  _ Do you know what my last thought was as we fell from that moon?"

Shiro opens his mouth as he nods, about to hazard a guess before Keith interrupts him.

"That I was going to die with you, and that it was the best death I could've hoped for." Keith sniffs, fighting tears before he looks away. This somehow causes the cavern in Shiro's chest to grow--it's a rare day Keith lets anyone see him vulnerable, and rarer still he allows anyone to see him cry. He fights off tears as valiantly as he fights off threats to the universe, and Shiro can't help but think that he's failing now as well.

He's always been the one in tears.

"I was going to die holding on the man I've been in love with for so long," Keith says. "I didn't want to. I wanted so many more years with you, Shiro, but at least I was going to be with you at the end. Can't that be reason enough to love you? I didn't realize I'd need one."

It all comes spilling out then, Shiro unable to hold back the storm of questions that've been brewing in him since this all began. Since he began to love Keith, really, all the questions he's been too afraid to ask for fear of pushing him further away. What happens next? What happens when they tell the paladins they're together? Keith  _ wants  _ to be together after this, that's painfully obvious, but what happens when they get back to Earth and the Garrison decides one or the other has to go because they're a conflict of interest?

One thing he does not do is tell Keith he shouldn't feel as he does. He's unwilling to crush that, Keith's indomitable spirit and the way he feels so fiercely. He doesn't deny he felt the same way as they hurtled toward oblivion, and he doesn't deny he wants this just as much as Keith does.

He worries that one day Keith will rise up and find there's someone better out there. There has to be better men than one who's tried to kill him.

Keith doesn't think so, tells him the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. His honey scent is soured by fear and frustration, and Shiro wants nothing more than to fix it. He wants to take back his questions and lay Keith down and prove exactly how he feels about him, but Keith's turned away toward Kosmo now and doesn't seem likely to turn back around for an apology.

Shiro knows what he's sorry for now--he's sorry for being able to believe everything but what Keith feels strongest about. Sleep doesn't come easy, and by the time it's morning and they're touching down on the planet they've decided to resupply at, both Shiro and Keith remain agitated and unsettled. They plaster on uniforms and smiles as they land, walking side by side into the light of twin suns. Keith seems determined to hold onto him until the very last possible second, his arm tucked in Shiro's though it's tense enough to hurt.

The rest of the paladins are either too excited or unwilling to care that the air between them has been tainted by this intangible thing. They rib gently, teasing about the new happy couple until Keith's fingers tighten on Shiro's arm, and Shiro waves away all the questions and comments. "We didn't come here to talk about us," he says with the fakest smile. "We're here to resupply. Krolia?"

"Shiro's right," she says. "I've made a list of who needs to retrieve what--" She passes a pad around, and Lance groans when he realizes he's been paired with Keith. "And we'll meet back here in three hours, when that sun touches the mountains." She points to the low hanging range as Keith passes Shiro the pad, and he's both nervous and relieved Krolia's taken it upon herself to take him for parts duty. "Any questions?"

"Yeah, why do I have to go with Mr. Scowls-all-the-time?" Lance says. "I mean, he's been getting dicked d--"

"Lance," Keith hisses. "Enough."

"Because like it or not, you two  _ will  _ get along at some point," Krolia says, pointing between them. "Why not here? I've made your list easy enough."

"Whatever," both mumble at once, and she gives them a self-satisfied grin before telling them to hurry back.

It's a hot trek through the desert they set down on, and Shiro spends it lost in his head as he stumbles through the dunes. Worried and exhausted, he's distracted to the point of not seeing a large, scorpion-like creature scuttling toward him until it's almost too late. Krolia's blade flashes before his eyes, and he's left staring at a corpse as she walks over.

"What's your problem?" she asks, wiping her blade. "You of all people are the last I'd expect that from."

"Just thinking," he says. Much to his relief, she lets him off with nothing more than a warning to be careful. Their gathering of parts goes smoothly, much more so than their walk, and she presses about Keith only vaguely, backing off when Shiro either ignores or deflects the questions. It's when he walks into a pole and drops some of the parts that she presses again.

"I almost killed him, Krolia." Shiro looks down at his shaking hands and listens to the raw despair evident in his voice, wanting to do nothing more than sink to the ground and bury himself away from the world that's once again too large. "How can I be the man he deserves after everything I've done to him?"

Krolia smiles then, the same soft smile that breaks across Keith's face when he gets excited about something. "It's not about what you've done," she says, and Shiro closes his eyes with a small laugh at the fact that she and Keith even think alike. Her brow knits as she rests a hand on his shoulder, a little confused. "It's about how you've proven to my son, over and over, that you'll be there for him. He hasn't had anyone like you in his life. He'd do anything for you."

Shiro looks to the setting suns, breaking red over the sandstone buildings they're wandering between. "That's what I'm afraid of," he whispers. "Him doing  _ anything.  _ I don't want that, Krolia. I don't want him to do anything--I want him to  _ live  _ with me. I want him to grow with me, and I know if he's presented with my death, he'll want to chase me down. I don't. Want. That."

"He doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do," Krolia says. "He got that from his father. Believe in him, Shiro, like he believes in you--he wouldn't do anything he didn't believe is right. If that's following you to the very end of existence, then, well...you should trust him." Her face falls slightly before she ruffles his hair and bends to pick up the parts he lost.

The desert path is easier to navigate this time, Shiro's head a bit clearer as Krolia's words run round and round. Everyone else is back at the lions already, and there's more teasing that the ones who were so adamant about being here on time are the last ones back into the fold. Keith's shuffling from side to side next to Lance, and Hunk has a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Ready to go?" Krolia asks.

"More than." Keith's mouth is set in a firm line as he beckons Shiro over, sweat beading down his face below his helmet. Shiro feels no small amount of remorse about the fact that Keith's heat was cycling again, even last night.

Again, he's failed.

He wants to make it up to him in whatever way he can, and is about to offer all of himself when Keith strips to his under armor and locks himself in the cockpit. "I need some time," he says, and Shiro is left standing and wondering whether he should knock on the foreboding metal doors. Kosmo gives him a look before he poofs in to be with Keith, and Shiro walks slowly backward to sit on the bed with his head in his hand.

The ache is back in his chest again, his own vexation milling along with Keith's until it coalesces into a lance, spearing through Shiro and making him want to just make it  _ stop.  _ It makes him want to cry, if he's being honest, makes him want to scream and berate himself for not seeing what was so clearly in front of him this whole time.

It's when the ache begins to ease a bit that he decides to get up and pad to the doors again. He listens through them, hears Keith shuffling, and decides to risk cracking it open. He sees Kosmo's head come to attention, but when he realizes it's only Shiro, he lays back down without alerting Keith. Keith has his feet propped up on the dash, his thumb and forefinger together as though he's meditating when he asks Kosmo to sound off. His voice is heavy, low and raspy, and it's hard to know if it's a joke until Kosmo whuffs and Keith lets out a dry chuckle.

"God, even when I was still a kid I sort of figured, you know?" He lets the position go to bury a hand in Kosmo's ruff, scratching as he wipes his face with the other sleeve. "But I was okay with he and Adam being a thing. I was okay with him not being there for  _ me.  _ He was my friend, and that was enough. And then Kerberos..." He sniffs again, louder, and Shiro swears he sees a tear fall onto Kosmo's fur as he turns profile. "I thought he was dead. And then he  _ was  _ dead. And now..."

Shiro's heart breaks along with Keith's voice as he opens the door and clears his throat. Keith whips around, rubbing viciously at his eyes in an attempt to hide the redness and tear stains. They're both silent, at an impasse, and Shiro's not sure if an offer of comfort would be well received or get him ejected into the void. It's not until Keith gets up and steps forward, his head to the side and avoiding eye contact, that Shiro decides to go for it. He extends his arm with a soft sound, offering.

"I'd die for you," Keith mumbles. His face rubs back and forth over Shiro's chest as he leans into him. He's got his arms crossed between them, doesn't give into the comfort even when Shiro rubs across his shoulders the way he loves. "I would, a thousand times over. I don't need a reason for that, I just..."

"I know, baby. I'm sorry," Shiro whispers, and he pours all he can into the words.

"Okay. Okay," Keith says, wiping his eyes again before offering him the seat. Shiro denies it, sinking down to the floor as he had that first night before this doubt set in. He doesn't know what Keith did to make the heat abate, but it's only simmering now, not burning through him as it had looked back in the desert. They're silent as stars fly by, still until Keith puts Black on autopilot and sinks to the ground.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable in bed?" Shiro asks as Keith leans into his side.

"Just hold me." Keith rests his head on Shiro's shoulder, staring sightlessly at the controls as they sit together. He's silent still as he soaks in Shiro's warmth, and Shiro wonders exactly how long they're going to sit like this. It's not that he minds, but this silence is unnerving and he needs Keith to know exactly how he feels.

Eventually, Keith's hands begin to wander. There's no rhyme or reason to his touches, only an endless mapping of Shiro's body that makes Shiro wonder exactly what he's trying to do. His face plants into the meat of Shiro's shoulder and he sighs as his hand comes up to trace the scar on the bridge of Shiro's nose.

Shiro feels like he’s under observation again, stretched out and laid open like he was on the Galra tables. He  _ shouldn’t,  _ he knows. Keith is the furthest thing from those horrible places, but he touches every part of Shiro with the same care, the same calculating gaze as the Galra who’d made sure they understood everything about the Earthlings. 

“You can just tell me if you want me,” he breathes when Keith’s knuckles brush low on his stomach. 

“I know,” Keith says. He repeats the motion, and Shiro’s head thumps back against the armrest as lips skim over his shoulder. “But that’s not what I want right now.”

“Then…”

“Being with you,  _ touching  _ you,” Keith says slowly, “makes me feel safe. I need to be safe.” He clutches at Shiro’s arm and buries his face in Shiro’s neck, nosing just under his ear with a soft whimper. “You’re  _ safe,  _ and I don’t know how to make you see that.” 

The breath leaves Shiro in a rush, punched out by the way Keith sounds so  _ exposed.  _ He wants to give into the desperate desire to make sure Keith never doubts him again, and there’s only a split second of hesitation before he pulls Keith into his lap and hugs so tight he’s a little worried he’ll hurt the other man. 

It’s no matter. Keith peppers kisses along his shoulder, neck, and collarbones, shaking silently in Shiro’s embrace.  _ “I love you,”  _ he says between each, as though he’s trying to impart the world’s most valuable lesson.

He just might be.

Shiro’s brow knits as he holds tighter, his fingers digging into Keith’s battle-worn body as a silent promise that he does, too. 

“I mean it,” Keith whispers, mouth brushing against Shiro’s as he cradles Shiro’s face. He brings their lips together for a long kiss, fingers sliding up to knit in Shiro’s hair until they’re panting together. “I love you. It’s not just heat. It’s not just the bond. You’re my  _ family,  _ Shiro. What else do I have to do to make you believe it? To prove it?”

Shiro kisses back, harder as he buries his hands in Keith’s hair. “You’d better not have to die for me,” he says raggedly. “Who’s going to save my ass again and again if you’re gone?”

Keith laughs, a little almost-sob of a thing. “I don’t know,” he says, throat working where it rests against Shiro’s shoulder. “Coran, maybe? The mice?”

“Uh huh.” Shiro’s mouth quirks up in a half-smile at the not-quite joke, his arm tightening around Keith’s shoulders as Keith mouths at his neck. It’s a slow, steady build between them this time, Keith’s heat ratcheting up by mere degrees as his touches grow progressively bolder. He waits, because he doesn’t want another misstep. Keith continues to whisper sweet nothings under the stars and as time wears on, Shiro finds it difficult to concentrate on anything but the way Keith’s hips shift against his.

“I want you to make me feel good, Shiro,” Keith whispers. His scent is thick on Shiro’s tongue as he bares his neck, guiding Shiro’s lips to his pulse. “And I want you to go slow, like you did when you thought I was asleep.”

Shiro freezes.

“When you cried for me,” Keith says, as though it wasn’t obvious, and pets Shiro’s hair. “I liked it,” he continues. “Not the crying, obviously. I don’t want to see you hurting. But...it felt good, your hands on me. I want that again.”

Shiro says nothing of the admission, not even a yes or no to the request. He doesn’t even  _ move  _ until Keith turns uncomfortably away, and then Shiro pulls him back to do as he’s asked, because he would do anything,  _ anything  _ to hear Keith tell him he loves him again.

He kisses along the column of Keith’s neck, assuring with word and action that it’s  _ him,  _ and it always has been. Red blooms on Keith’s skin, several darker marks scattered between as Shiro takes the flesh between his lips and makes sure Keith knows he always  _ will  _ be. These are not the sort of bruises he hates to see--they’re a statement, and the way Keith moans as he’s marked means he understands. 

When Keith reaches between them to grab for Shiro’s cock, Shiro stops him. He lets go of Keith’s back to slide his hand into Keith’s pants instead, finding him not quite as aroused as he has been their last few times. “Keith?” he questions.

“Heat’s winding down,” Keith murmurs. “It’s fine, Shiro. I want you.” When Shiro glances down, there’s a hint of a smirk on his face where it’s pressed into the junction of Shiro’s shoulder. “Make it count,” he says. “Do me like you said you wanted to. You know, in your fantasies.”

Shiro moans appreciatively into Keith’s hair, searching out his ear to mumble his assent. His thumb and forefinger close around Keith’s cock, slowly teasing the nub to hardness. “You’re right,” he says. “I might not have seen it, might have been blind…” He grinds up into Keith’s hips, kissing along the length of his neck and appreciating the thud of Keith’s pulse below his tongue. “But I love you.”

Keith shudders below him. “Say it again,” he whispers, barely audible.

“I...love...you.” Shiro pulls his hand away from Keith to rest it against his stomach, just over the trail of hair above his hips. It’s to ground him as much as it is to ground Keith, and his eyes flutter shut at the deep breath Keith takes. “I love you.”

Keith’s hands fist in Shiro’s hair again, tugging it as he presses down against Shiro. “Touch me again.”

“Baby~” Shiro relishes the soft sigh Keith makes, stores it away for later thought. “You said to fuck you like I wanted to, yeah?”

“Mmn.”

Shiro lowers his voice to a dark whisper. “I don’t remember that including you ordering me around.”

_ “Oh.”  _ The sigh that rips out of Keith is breathy, heady, and it sets Shiro’s blood on fire.

It’s  _ want. _

“If that’s okay,” Shiro says softly. “It’s all right if it’s not, I know--”

“It’s perfect,” Keith breathes. 

Shiro pushes him gently to the side, and both nearly knock their heads together as they try to stand at once. Keith chuckles sheepishly, ducking his head and motioning Shiro forward. He blankets Shiro from behind again and this time, Shiro takes it as the kindness it’s meant as. His head tips back for a quick kiss before Keith guides them into the cabin. “You’re perfect,” he mumbles.

Keith flushes. “Y--Yeah, I guess,” he says. “Good. Perfect.”

“You  _ guess,”  _ Shiro teases as he turns around. “I’m telling you, baby, there’s no guesswork.”

“Shiro,” Keith complains.

_ “Keith,”  _ Shiro says, and he watches Keith’s eyes widen as his heartbeat quickens. He smiles. It may not be perfect, and he can already tell that fucking in the lion is going to get old quickly, but it’s Keith. It’s no longer a test of endurance, seeing who can hang on to their composure longer, and this is one time Shiro’s more than willing to let Keith follow him down. He teases, tantalizes, strings Keith out until Keith’s nothing more than a sobbing mess on his fingers, and when he allows him the sweet moment of release…

Pain and past and self are forgotten to the sound of Keith’s choked cries.

He comes twice more for Shiro before Shiro takes mercy, coming into him a mere minute later as Keith wraps around his body. He’s not sure where Keith’s shaking ends and his begins, but all he knows is that he wants to hold Keith close, endlessly. 

As many times as it takes before they make this bond between them their own.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments always read and _very_ much appreciated, and I always do my best to get back to them ❤️
> 
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